


Running Sparks

by KinkMeme_KinkFest_Archiver



Category: Eternal Arcadia | Skies of Arcadia
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-20
Updated: 2007-04-20
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkMeme_KinkFest_Archiver/pseuds/KinkMeme_KinkFest_Archiver
Summary: Galcian has a request.





	Running Sparks

**Title:** Running Sparks  
 **Fandom/Pairing:** Skies of Arcadia Legends (Galcian/Ramirez)  
 **Author:** WakingDreamer  
 **Recipient:** Oni  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** BDSM, spoilers  
 **Wordcount:** 2750  
 **Summary:** Galcian has a request.  
 **Prompt:** _Ramirez is trying to gain more power, and what better way to do it_  
than comply with Galcian's wishes? With or without BDSM is fine.

Ramirez started at the violent crash of the storm outside, which illumined his study in painful blue-white brilliance and set the inkwell upon his desk to rattling. The jerk of his arm sent the quill skating wildly across the parchment before him, leaving an unsightly trail of ink blotches behind. He sighed and put the pen aside, dabbing at the ink on the desk surface with a stained cloth that bore evidence of many similar incidents. After ten years in Valua, he was still unaccustomed to the perpetual wrath that plagued the skies, so unlike the pervasive stillness of the Silvite enclave where he had been made.

He wadded up the half-finished page of his report on the battle-readiness of Belleza's fleet and deposited the crumpled, ink-dampened sheet in the waste bin. With great care, he wrote the title across the top of a fresh sheet of parchment and began to fill in the summary. He had written this same page four separate times; untimely clashes of thunder kept startling him. The storms tonight were the worst he could recall.

He had just reached the end of his first paragraph when a quiet tap at the door interrupted him. "Enter," he called, setting the quill aside.

A young ensign entered and saluted. "Lord Galcian wishes to see you, sir," he said.

"Thank you." Ramirez made sure to lock the finished pages of the report in his desk drawer, away from prying eyes, before he rose from his seat. "Where will I find Lord Galcian?" he asked. His right sleeve was stained with ink; he would need to change before approaching the Lord Admiral.

"He is in his office, sir. Do you require an escort?"

"No, thank you. I will be there directly."

The ensign saluted and departed. Ramirez stepped through the connecting door into his chamber. It was spacious enough, though sparsely furnished, for what good was the pursuit of trinkets and toys when one had a sacred mission to fulfill? Valuans spent entirely too much energy on the pursuit of wealth.

He changed to a clean shirt and made his way through the neatly laid-out corridors to Lord Admiral Galcian's office. As he raised his hand to knock, the door was flung open and he had to step back to avoid being bowled over by First Admiral Alfonso. Alfonso sniffed and brushed back imaginary wisps of pale blonde hair. "Watch where you're going, peasant," he ordered.

"My lord." Ramirez saluted, gritting his teeth. Everyone in the Armada knew Alfonso only held an admiralship because of his family connections, but the rank and file still had to obey him.

Alfonso sniffed again and strode past, swirling his cape emphatically. Ramirez shook his head slightly and tapped on the open door.

"Enter." Galcian sounded distinctly irritated. Ramirez stepped into his office and saluted.

"Ramirez." The Lord Admiral's scowl lightened somewhat. "Good. Close the door."

Ramirez shut the door behind him and waited for further orders. Silence descended upon the room, interrupted periodically by the sounds of the storm raging outside. Ramirez wondered if someone had summoned the Yellow Gigas to unleash such a storm.

Galcian sat behind an imposing desk stacked high with papers, rolling a shard of Yellow Moon Stone between his palms. Occasional bright-blue sparks of electricity snapped from the stone as he turned it around to examine it from all angles. Ramirez waited patiently. Silence was no foe to him, raised in the cloistered Silvite civilization.

"You have served me loyally these ten years past, Ramirez." Galcian set the moon stone on the desk and looked directly at Ramirez. "Never have you asked for a reward. Why?"

Ramirez called on years of practice to keep his voice steady. "Serving you is its own reward, Lord Admiral."

"Surely you wish something for yourself." Galcian's gaze was focused on Ramirez's face. Ramirez swallowed hard. Galcian rarely looked so intent save in the privacy of his bedchamber.

"I have no need of wealth or possessions, Lord Admiral."

"What of power?" Galcian flipped the stone up into the air and watched it tumble back toward his palm, spitting out blue sparks. "You served Lord Admiral Mendosa before me, and you are known through Valua as my trusted aide, yet still must you defer to that simpering fop Alfonso, among others."

This was precisely why the Silvite Elders had sent him: to gain power within Valua that he might obtain the Moon Crystals and call the Rains of Destruction. Ramirez wondered why, when his goal was at the tips of his fingers, he felt almost...guilty at taking what he had earned. "I have no need for power, my Lord Admiral. I am content to serve as best I may."

Galcian made a noise that Ramirez had long ago deduced passed for a chuckle. "Everyone wants something, Ramirez."

Ramirez thought of the Moon Crystals and the six Gigas. As an Admiral, he could command fleets to go in search of them. Yet, to ask for the promotion would make Galcian suspicious. "I want for nothing, Lord Admiral, but please do not think that I disparage your generosity."

Yes, there, the flash of interest in Galcian's eyes. "It is not generosity, Ramirez. I do expect something in return." He stood up. Ramirez saluted.

"Come with me." Galcian turned and moved toward the door that connected his office to his private quarters. Ramirez followed him silently, wondering exactly what Galcian expected in return.

At the door, he nearly balked, and Galcian's hand descended on his shoulder, warm even through the thick fabric of his uniform. Ramirez swallowed, trying to alleviate his suddenly parched throat, and wondered briefly if he would be up to this.

Galcian's voice was quiet, and his breath tickled Ramirez's ear and sent shivers down his spine. "Do you wish to change your mind?"

Ramirez looked at the gleaming metal and oiled black leather of the shackles resting against pristine white sheets and the small selection of whips laid out on the table beside the bed. He had shared Galcian's bed before, but that had just been sex, nothing like this.

"No, Lord Admiral," he said, though it came out rather more hoarse than he had intended.

"Good." Galcian nudged him, and he stepped forward. Galcian followed him into the room, and the door clicked shut behind them in the sudden silence. The next thunderclap nearly made Ramirez jump, but he caught himself just in time.

He turned to face Galcian, who was standing with his back to the door, his face in shadow. "Disrobe," Galcian ordered curtly.

Ramirez tugged off his gloves and moved to set them on top of the chest by the foot of the bed. "No," Galcian said. "Let them drop to the floor."

He dropped the gloves and began to unfasten the uniform shirt. The fastenings that held the shirt closed defied him and slipped from his grasp more than once. Galcian had watched him undress before, but it was the way he did it now that unnerved Ramirez; he had never seen Galcian look quite so predatory in this situation. It was the expression he wore when planning military maneuvers.

At last he got the shirt undone. He removed it and began to fold it neatly, as was his wont, but Galcian cleared his throat loudly and instead Ramirez let the dark fabric slip from his fingers to the floor.

As he began to remove his boots, Galcian crossed his arms and spoke quietly. "Should you wish to halt the proceedings, you need only speak the word 'Yeligar.'"

Ramirez bobbled the effort to tug his boot off and nearly overbalanced. Had Galcian truly just told him to speak the name of the Yellow Gigas to stop this?

"Of course," Galcian continued, "I would be disappointed if we should have to halt, but I will respect your wishes."

Ramirez finished removing his second boot and resolved to himself that the name of the Gigas would not pass his lips.

There was no sound save for the omnipresent crash of thunder as he finished removing his clothing. When it all lay in a dark heap at his feet, Galcian pointed wordlessly toward the bed. Ramirez turned and walked toward the bed slowly, nursing the frail hope that the accoutrements were an elaborate set-up designed to test his loyalty.

"On your back," Galcian said. "Put the bindings on your ankles."

Ramirez quickly discovered that the chains attached to the leather cuffs were quite short—enough so that he had to spread his ankles wide to fasten both. He was limber from his daily combat training, but he could feel a faint stretching sensation in the muscles of his thighs as he leaned forward to fasten the second cuff.

"Now your wrist." Galcian stood still half in shadow, his face barely visible. Ramirez had previously thought the Lord Admiral perhaps a shade rough and possessive in their dealings, but he preferred that to this chill distance. Slowly he fastened the binding around his left wrist, leaving it a notch too loose. He still couldn't pull his hand free, but it was reassuring to have that tiny amount of movement available.

With his wrist bound and his ankles spread, he had to lie flat on the bed, his left arm stretched above his head. Galcian moved at last, stopping at the foot of the bed to check the bindings on his ankles, tugging at them to ensure they held secure. He examined the binding on Ramirez's wrist and made a faint sound of disapproval, tightening the strap so that there was little flexibility in it, though not so tight as to hinder circulation.

The Lord Admiral moved slowly around the bed to the other side and held out one hand. Ramirez took a deep breath and offered his right wrist to the Admiral. Galcian bound his wrist securely in the fourth shackle, then tightened the chain. Ramirez tugged instinctively on the chains and found himself held fast, unable to truly move.

Galcian stepped back and removed his shirt, watching as Ramirez struggled against the shackles. He paced back around the bed to the table with the whips. Ramirez craned his neck in an effort to see, but Galcian's back was in the way, and after a moment he rested his head back on the bed, grimacing at the twinge in his neck. He felt very exposed, and was intensely aware of the texture of the leather against his skin and the sheets beneath his back.

Galcian turned back toward him, a riding crop clasped loosely in his hand. He rested the soft leather loop at the end against Ramirez's temple, and Ramirez flinched.

"Remember," Galcian said, "the word 'Yeligar' will halt this. I will not heed a simple plea to stop." The Lord Admiral smiled faintly. "Understood?"

Ramirez licked his lips, which did him little good, as his mouth had gone dry. "Yes, Lord Admiral."

"Good. Then, we begin."

The leather traced slowly down the side of his face, straying to brush against his earlobe, then tracing along his jaw and under his chin. Ramirez's eyes crossed trying to track the position of the crop, but closing his eyes did him little good, as it heightened his awareness of the crop gliding over his skin and left him wondering when the light, teasing touch would shift to a starburst of pain as the crop snapped against his skin.

The faint, teasing brush of leather against his skin paused. He tugged against the leather holding him still, quashing the nervousness that was trying to well up. A moment later, the end of the crop snapped and pain flared hot and bright on his shoulder.

"Lord Admiral—" he began.

The crop snapped again, against his right bicep this time. He tried to twist away, but found himself held fast by the leather straps around his wrist. He was dimly aware, as the pain faded to a faint, dull ache, that Galcian was tracing his fingertips in a straight line down his arm, a touch so light he barely felt the admiral's fingertips against his skin. On his other arm, the crop began to trace light circles, soft as a breath, on the sensitive skin of his inner arm. He tensed, waiting for the next blow to fall.

It didn't come.

As Galcian hand trailed in lazy circles on his chest and the crop slid over his skin, he felt his cock beginning to harden. Galcian smiled faintly and drew the crop downward until the loop of leather skimmed over his nipples. Ramirez moaned. The leather circled teasingly for a moment and then, as his nipples began to stiffen, Galcian snapped the crop against his skin, and Ramirez didn't quite manage to hold back a cry.

"Do you yield?" Galcian asked.

Ramirez tried to consider the best way to phrase his answer, but the crop had slid lower over his stomach and the leather was just barely brushing against his cock. He was nearly paralyzed with fear that the crop would strike again.

The crop paused and lifted from his skin. "I asked a question," Galcian snapped.

"No, Lord Admiral," Ramirez blurted, and hated himself for it. He was sure that was not the answer Galcian was looking for, and he would be punished—

The crop resumed its slow, feather-light caress, teasing the head of his cock. Ramirez shuddered and arched toward it, causing Galcian to draw the crop back. He moaned in frustration.

The crop traced in a slow, lazy line down his inner thigh, flicking back and forth from one leg to the other in some pattern of which he could not divine the logic. Occasionally the crop would snap and a burst of pain would flare from his leg, making him struggle against the bonds.

Galcian kept up the slow, patient teasing, drawing Ramirez closer and closer to the Edge of release. The crop trailed back and forth from his cock to the insides of his thighs and upward to flirt with his nipples, and every so often the delicate pleasure was interrupted by the snap of leather against skin, but the pain seemed only to heighten his sensitivity to the pleasure.

At length Galcian tossed the crop aside and slicked his cock with oil, moving onto the bed and holding himself poised over Ramirez. His fingers probed slowly and slid into Ramirez, who tugged at his bonds in earnest now. He wanted his hands free to touch Galcian, and feel warm muscle under equally warm hands.

Galcian's fingers slid in and out of him slowly, a patient rhythm that had him making sounds alternately of pleasure and protest, for it was not nearly enough. He wanted to feel himself being stretched open, tight around Galcian's cock—and then he was, and Galcian was moving hard and fast, his hand loosely wrapped around Ramirez's cock and stroking gently, not nearly hard enough for what Ramirez wanted. He arched up into Galcian's hand as best he could, with the Lord Admiral's weight over him and his limb bound, but couldn't get the pressure he wanted.

Galcian groaned when he found his release, and braced himself over Ramirez, breathing heavily. Ramirez choked back an entirely too desperate plea for his own release, and forced himself to be patient.

After a moment, Galcian withdrew from him and unfastened the bonds holding his ankles. Ramirez shifted his legs cautiously, wincing at the stiffness in muscles held stretched for too long. The bonds on his wrists came next, and he rubbed at reddened skin cautiously.

Galcian gathered the whips set out on the table by the bed and walked to a cabinet against the wall to put them away. Ramirez hesitated.

"Dismissed," Galcian said curtly.

Somewhat bewildered, Ramirez gathered his clothing and dressed, unable to hold back a gasp when fabric rasped over sensitive skin as he tried to fasten his pants. Galcian had moved to the window and was staring at the storm outside.

It was a long and awkward walk back to his quarters, every movement provoking more pleasure as the fabric slid against his skin. Ramirez gritted his teeth and reminded himself that he served a greater goal, and that he had furthered it tonight.

Duty or no, Ramirez thought, he would welcome the chance to share the Lord Admiral's bed in this manner again. But he rather hoped that next time, the Lord Admiral would see fit to grant him release, as well.


End file.
